


Cleanse

by featherlullaby



Category: Avril Lavigne (Musician), Paramore
Genre: Anger, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, F/F, Mental Health Issues, Minor Violence, Muteness, Sad, Scars, Self-Esteem Issues, and like there are others but they're in the background, avril stabs things is that considered violence??, but like it's subtle, hayvril, idk what else to tag, no one cares about them lol, so much for my happy ending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-29 06:02:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12624783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/featherlullaby/pseuds/featherlullaby
Summary: In which a quiet guitarist falls in love with a runaway.





	1. things you count

Hayley had a nervous habit.

She'd count everything.

Her fingers. The strings on her guitar. Stalks of wheat she passed on the way down a hill.

Just to make sure they were real. To make sure she was seeing them, and that they were there.

She counted the clouds in the sky. Each strand making up a lock of her hair. And how many mental health days she'd need to take until she finally felt okay.

That last one, however, was a number too large for her to add up.

She skipped school again today, instead opting to venture out into the wild field area she liked to visit. She contemplated physically dropping out and becoming involved in a kind of nature job, just being out and doing things and _living_.

Hayley noticed a button tacked onto a tree with a deformed safety pin.

She liked buttons. She liked small things, collectible things. It was why her fall jackets had lonely holes, and why shiny coins and pebbles around her neighborhood kept disappearing.

Carefully, she loosened the pin and removed the button, scrutinizing it. She counted the holes in it—four—and the amount of colors it had—two, brown and tan.

Subconsciously, she slid both it and the safety pin in her jeans pocket and continued walking.

She wondered what it meant.

 


	2. things you lose

Avril had ways of letting her anger out.

One being that she'd stab things.

Anything. Trees. Walls. Stuffed animals. Once even herself, though she quickly realized that evoked levels of fear and regret she wasn't comfortable experiencing.

She still had the scar on the back of her hand to mark that event.

It's why she had a job at a restaurant. She was a high school dropout, so it wasn't exactly a five-star establishment. But it got her money, enough to afford a crappy apartment room, and allowed her to chop things up into little pieces. She made soup. That was her main thing.

And when she had down time she'd trudge into a field, slicing the petals off of daisies with her jackknife. She'd also leave little reminders of where she'd been by stabbing buttons into trees with safety pins. She didn't know why. It just brought her that sense of release all the same, and besides, she had a lot of buttons she wanted to get rid of.

However, upon inspection of the tree she had just recently started targeting, she noticed a button she had originally affixed to it was missing. It still had the hole, but when she searched on the ground there was no trace of it falling anywhere. Plus, certain stalks of plants were pressed down, indicating someone had indeed walked over here and taken it.

She wondered who it was. As far as she was concerned, she was the only person who came out here.

Whatever, it didn't matter. Avril had more. And she removed a safety pin from her pocket before forcing it through the hole of a button into the bark of the tree with a grunt, keeping both there.

She debated doing more, but the sun was starting to go down, and she had work again tomorrow. She needed to go home.

 


	3. things you leave

Hayley had lost the living rights to her apartment, as she had neglected to pay her rent on time again. She didn't mind. It wasn't as if she liked living there.

She didn't have many things. Her guitar she supposed she'd take, and a few sets of clothing. And, oh, her box of collections. Definitely her box of collections.

She packed her clothes in a small backpack, carrying her guitar in its case and box in her arms. And she left.

She didn't know where she'd go. She highly doubted anyone would take in a worthless, untalented teenage girl.

She strode down the sidewalk, keeping her gaze straight ahead as a group of older boys catcalled her and asked her what her rates were. She wouldn't have been able to respond either way. She just kept walking. She counted the bricks on certain walls, and each crack she stepped over.

Hayley eventually reached a restaurant familiar to her, having been in there a few times. She gently placed her box and guitar near the dumpster behind the building, covering them with her jacket. She figured that since it was late there was a good chance nobody would be around to throw out or steal them, and that she'd wake up before anyone could.

And so she threw her backpack into the dirt behind the dumpster and laid down, using it as a pillow, and waited until her shivering subsided enough for her to fall asleep.

 


	4. things you find

When her alarm went off at 5:00 the next morning, Avril yelled aloud and thrust one of her knives into the top of her nightstand, leaving yet another deep groove.

She then yanked it out and dug the blade into the side of it, dragging it down until she felt most of her rage being alleviated.

She sat up, observing the splitting and peeling wood, and sighed. She really needed a less destructive way to deal with her anger.

Well, she'd figure one out later. It was time for her to get ready to go to work.

//

"You know the drill, Lavigne," her boss said once she had pushed past the doors. "Trash, wash hands, get to work."

Avril nodded tautly and headed through the employee doors to the kitchen area. The trash hadn't been emptied the previous night, being saved for the morning. She never thought this was a very good idea; it might attract ants and rats. But she never voiced her opinion, knowing she'd just get ignored. She was just a stupid kid. No one ever took her seriously.

With a huff, she heaved the bag of trash out of the can and dragged it outside. She haphazardly shoved it into the dumpster and brushed her hands on her jeans, prematurely clearing them of the bacteria.

That's when she noticed other junk piling up in front of it, making her groan under her breath. They'd probably make her throw _that_ out, too.

However, upon closer inspection, she realized that it didn't look like junk. Beneath an old coat there was a guitar case stashed behind a sizable box. She peeked past the cardboard flaps.

Wow. Things. That was her immediate thought. There were a _lot_ of things in there. Safety pins. Paper clips. Coins. Buttons. Jewelry and pieces of fabric. Decorative rhinestones and glitter stars. Rocks. Random small objects. All of differing sizes and shapes.

One in particular caught her eye; it looked to be the brown button she had tacked onto the tree in that field, the one that had disappeared. It still even had the red safety pin through it.

Avril inwardly snorted and pushed the box away. She was overthinking now. That particular button was one of probably thousands in the world; why would it be hers?

Still, she decided to keep an eye on the area. Just to see if anyone might come back for it.

 


	5. things you accept

Hayley woke up and rolled the cricks out of her neck, listening to the sickening symphony of pops and cracks that followed.

Her bed had certainly not been ideal. Everything was stiff from sleeping at a weird angle, and she was lying on, well, the ground. She was cold, dirty, and miserable.

And to top it all off, she was starving. She let out a silent moan and clutched her stomach, hearing it grumble past her hands.

God, she was pathetic. She had no home, no place to sleep, no food to eat. This was definitely not her highest point in life.

Wearily, she slithered out from behind the dumpster and found her things still there. Thank Christ. She didn't know what she'd have done if someone had taken them.

She was weird like that. She found value in small, unimportant things. She just...cherished them, felt like she was giving them a safe haven away from the harshness of the world. It was quite odd.

With a deep breath, she pressed herself up against the far wall, trying to get amidst the sun's pale rays.

A brunette girl poked her head out the back door then, startling her. "Um, hey."

Hayley waved timidly.

"I'm Avril. Who are you?"

_Fuck. Uh._ She didn't have anything to write with nor on, and she guessed this girl didn't know any sign language.

The only thing she could do was motion towards her throat in a certain way that she hoped articulated she wasn't able to speak.

"Oh. You lost your voice?"

She nodded. _Something like that, yeah._

"You look cold." Avril came over and picked her coat up off the ground, then wrapped it around her shoulders.

As if on cue, Hayley's stomach growled, and she glanced up at her sheepishly.

"You're hungry," the brunette commented. "You want some soup? It might help your voice."

She nodded again.

 


End file.
